They Say Love Is Blind
They say love is blind.
But who are “they” and what do they know about it?
It doesn’t matter. They’re right.
Being in love and even in a relationship removes our objectivity and we fail to see what is in front of us, which is a dangerous situation for both men and women.
Thoughts on Love
Love should be the base of all our interactions.
Yet we have grown and been grown to compete and judge others.
When we compete we are hoping to dominate.
When we judge we are declaring a privileged position.
Seek to Know Love
What do I know about love? I have no particular writings on it, nor do I have any clear philosophical resolutions (only musings plagued by doubts, haunted by dreams). I have been in love, or at least think I have, and recognize many loves as platonic, romantic, or a combination of both. Whether ‘love’ is a physical reality of pheromones and material bonds between brains and bodies, or a soul-tying merger between kindred spirits, it has been the adhesive of clan and culture across the ages.
7:43
It landed gently upon the faux marble tabletop which had been lightly soiled with spilt drops of iced tea. It stood planted, its antennae quivering in the warm breeze and its impossibly thin wings drawn tightly together as it scavenged the sugary remains.
For the Love of Dinosaur
When I was a kid, I had a stuffed velociraptor in lieu of a teddy bear. I, like most other earnest little kids, had learned to displace a substantial amount of my affection, trust and hope into what was, speaking entirely pragmatically, only a collection of fabric and stuffing sewn together by a machine.
Love Clothes
Our love is like a dirty t-shirt. When you wash away the grime, you wash away the colour; Oh, and it fades in the sunlight.
ithaca
before i go
i will steal your laugh lines
while you are sleeping
and from them, build a vast map,
a history of joy
a panoptic cure-all for madness.
a path back to you.
I Could Tell You
For what it’s worth, I’d like to tell you something about love as I know it. The trouble is, I’m not quite sure what to say.
I could tell you about unrequited love. That it once gave me pain so deep I thought I’d die. Pain so real and raw I spent my days doubled over, tears rolling down my cheeks. I could tell you that every relationship portrayed on television moved me to tears, that I played “Iris” by the Goo Goo Dolls on repeat.
For The Love of Her Child
When I was sixteen, we were walking through the mall and I saw a screaming child on the ground next to a disgruntled, tired looking mother. I turned to you and I said, “I am sorry for ever acting that way. “ You laughed, grabbed my arm and said thank you, telling me that you loved me no matter what kind of shenanigans I get myself into, young or old. This is your favourite story to tell, aside from the time a mannequin fell on me (by my own hand), and I am happy to have given it to you.
LOVE for the sacrifice of
Simranjet is a young man, working in the ore mines, somewhere in the north of Kivu, the Democratic Republic of the Congo.
Jordan is a teenage boy, attending high school, somewhere in the south of Ontario, Canada.
Note on a Fridge
You moved my shoes.
Again, Laura.
You moved my shoes again and I couldn’t find them.
Beholder IV
“You come to sing to me. Make my heart race with desire. You are a goddess of the sea. Why do you waste time with this mortal man?”
You
I love you. And you’re all over my walls. Dark, dripping, biting. This right-angled bludgeoner, covered in you. You trickle downward to the head, form a droplet, and fall to the floor. Drip into your own massacred eye sockets. Can’t you see how much I love you? This deep red romance. Not that Romeo and Juliet bullshit. This is true passion.
Love Perfected in the 21st Century
They all sat on miserable sofas…in the miserable sitting room…of Kelly’s decaying, attic apartment. By miserable, Heather only meant modern, but modern sofas were synonymous with miserable in Heather’s opinion. The acute angles and anorexic cushions, which comprised and stretched themselves across Kelly’s contemporary furniture, never persuaded Heather’s traditional tastes.
Conquer Love
I have dreamt of you in passing moments. I have relished you in memories now faded, maybe never true. And always you have left me; hand slips from my grip and your back slowly moves from my vision into the darkness of never again. And always I am crying; tears drip off my face, fall uselessly to the ground and gather around my naked feet. I am no child, I am no woman, I am no one…
It’s An Island
Everyone loves to complain about love. It is glamorous to be miserable in love, skeptical or commitment-phobic. It’s sexy to have affairs while tied to a cold spouse. Even better to be that romantic vagabond uselessly searching for the one with whom to rest their soul.
